This week will mark the end of my first month in Mexico City. The myriad experiences thus far are many: from the excitement of training in the birthplace of Lucha Libre Mexicana, the fear of a new country, the frustration of lacking communication, the anguish of a terrible performance, to delivering a great performance on the same card as Hurican Ramirez. In lieu of attempting to–and undoubtedly failing to–capture my experience in prose, I have elected to share some photos.

More to come. Other photos can be found on my Instagram @ luchadorfenix.

Tuesday, September 18th marked the day of my debut in Mexico, and the day that I realized that Mexico is indeed chock-full of luchadores. There is even perhaps an overabundance of them, which only funny to me because my home company, Lucha Libre Volcánica, has struggled to recruit new luchadores.

I was invited to perform by one of my maestros, Sepulcro, to what turned out to be an anniversary show of some effect, and was held in the back parking lot of a public marketplace in front of 60-80 people. There was no pay, but we were instead thanked with delicious in-house made chicharrón, and cervezas.

The event coordinator had invited a select few luchadores—the bigger names of course—and each of them decided in turn to bring all of their luchador friends. For fans, this meant that they would get to see a lot of luchadores. For the luchadores, it meant that there were all messily crammed into a tent that was meant to comfortably fit 15 people at best. This also marked my first time being a part of a 4-man tag team match, which took place in a ring that had been haphazardly and hastily thrown together. Imagine: extra-thick yoga mats layered above plywood and steel beams, all topped with a tarp that appeared to have borrowed from a utility tent. Oh, and that tarp is “secured” by twine.

This…

I have yet to find a spanish equivalent for the phrase “shitshow.”

The structural integrity of the ring was so questionably terrifying, that I had trouble focusing on the match itself instead of thinking about my safety the entire time. I also managed royally fuck up a move called tijeras from the third rope. Tijeras should look something like this:

Instead, I ended up doing something resembling this:

Consequently I have a bruised shoulder, which isn’t too bad considering what could have happened. I would easily call it my worst match ever, and if nothing else, it was definitely a learning experience. [UPDATE: Video of this trainwreck can be found here]

In other news, one of my maestros wants me dead. To be clear, not just me: all of his students. Meet: Pierrothito.

He is actually kind of *big* deal.

Pierrothito, or Pequeño Pierroth, is a CMLL alumn, and has performed internationally. He is strong, agile, and roundly respected worldwide as a luchador. He is also a demanding maestro, and runs his practices much like a drill sargeant.

¡Más arriba, maggots!

On an unrelated note, Sr. Pierroth also stands at a staggering 5 feet tall and one half-inch, so it feels more like this at times…

Salto de tigre from the floor into the ring over the first rope, followed by a resorte from the ring apron to the floor: 5 times

Salto de tigre from the floor into the ring over the second rope, followed by a maroma, then a resorte to the outside: 5 times

Note: to put the latter two in perspective, the ring sits 4 feet off of the ground. And we do all of this before we ever get in the ring to practice lucha libre, in which we do drills for another hour. At least.

…and maybe a couple of other “warmup” exercises. In short: Pierrothito does not fuck around.

Despite being physically destroyed on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, my evening practices with Sepulcro are significantly more relaxed by comparison, and instead are quite technical in nature. Regardless, I am simultaneously getting my ass kicked and learning loads from my two maestros, both of whom are excellent teachers, even if one of them is trying to kill me…